


Amortentia

by thescienceofsherlolly



Series: A Potter!lolly Science [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Amortentia, F/M, John and Mary hate each other..., Kissing, Neck Kissing, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sherlock Is A Bit Not Good, Sherlock and Molly don't care about school, not even a little bit, sherlock likes molly's neck. let's leave it at that, such responsible. much cleverness, there's sniffing. lot's of sniffing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 14:55:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8165852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thescienceofsherlolly/pseuds/thescienceofsherlolly
Summary: Love is in the air but, unfortunately for Sherlock Holmes, he cannot figure out where.





	

“And remember,” Professor Slughorn called over the excited chattering of the students in his stifling Potions classroom, “Amortentia is distinguished by its pearl-like sheen. The steam should be rising in characteristic spirals. Please record your findings in your textbooks. You have one hour.”

Gryffindors and Ravenclaws clamoured about the room, eager to get started on what was probably their most interesting project to date. John Watson emptied his ingredients onto one of the empty benches and rubbed his hands together, consulting his Potions book on how best to proceed. Beside him, his best friend, Sherlock Holmes, was already preparing his selection of ingredients, eyes darting between his textbook and personal notes.

“I’ve been looking forward to this,” John was saying, his tone like that of a child on Christmas morning. He glanced at Sherlock, only to find him engrossed in his work; it was difficult to get anything out of him when he was busy. John rolled his eyes and continued, chopping at his ingredients, “the Slytherins and Hufflepuffs have to do this later. I wonder if Moriarty will try and slip some to Hooper. You know he fancies-“

“Yes, yes, I am aware…” Sherlock snapped, crushing his Ashwinder eggs with exaggerated force.

John smirked; true, there wasn’t much that could break the genius’ concentration but Molly Hooper, a small Hufflepuff with a big crush, was definitely one of them. He turned his attention to his own eggs, squashing the surprisingly large blue orbs with ease.

“I can’t wait to show Morstan,” he muttered, apparently not quietly enough. The Gryffindor looked up and noticed a pair of concerned blue eyes looking back at him.

“You want to give Mary Morstan the world’s strongest love potion which causes powerful infatuation and removes her free will?”

John grimaced, realising just then how that had sounded, “of course not. We have this…competition going. She thinks she’s so much better. Shut up.”

He was growing redder with each word he spoke but, thankfully, Sherlock had lost interest and returned to his potion, skilfully chopping and slicing when necessary.

“Oh, good. Waste of a potion, if you ask me.”

“What do you mean?” John asked with a frown; instead of a reply, Sherlock merely rolled his eyes and carried on with his preparations.

Soon, the classroom was filled with the sounds of happy chatter, brewing potions and the occasional minor explosion. Steam spiralled around their heads, emitting intoxicating aromas which students were instructed to document. John was busy jotting down his finding when Slughorn reached their table, leaning over their bench.

“Excellent work, boys. Wonderful colour. Brilliant use of the rose thorns, Mr. Holmes,” John rolled his eyes; Sherlock Holmes was star pupil and apple of Slughorn’s eye, teacher’s pet and whatnot.

The Ravenclaw nodded once, still bent over his workbook and stayed there until the Potions professor awkwardly shuffled away to congratulate another student. John rolled his sleeves and leaned over his cauldron, inhaling deeply; the fumes were thick and overwhelmed his mind, leaving him lightheaded and slightly drowsy. He shook his head, scribbling the discerning scents: fresh laundry, baked bread and tea. He tapped his chin, sniffing at the potion again – he thought of home, his mother bringing his washing and kissing his forehead, ruffling his hair. He thought of weekend fishing trips with his father, drinking tea from a thermos. He thought of Morstan and the uncomfortable time they were left alone whilst Sherlock and Hooper went to research in the Library, the bread they’d tossed to the ducks resting on the lake, the smile on her face as the wind swept through her hair…

“What are you smiling at?”

John returned to the hot Potions room and blinked several times at Sherlock, who was staring at him with a knowing look on his face. He cleared his throat, “nothing. Come on, what did you find?”

Sherlock shrugged, “I don’t have-“

“Bullshit. Amotentia is the most powerful love potion in the world. It has different smells for everyone according to what they find most attractive, even if the person doesn't acknowledge or is unaware of their fondness for the object of their affection themselves.”

“Did you swallow _Moste Potent Potions_? I know that!” Sherlock snapped, ruffling his hair as he looked into his potion; if John didn’t know any better, he’d say his friend was nervous to discover what he was attracted to.

The Ravenclaw sighed and tentatively sniffed at his potion – he instantly smelled freshly brewed coffee, the kind he’d shared with John and Molly after visiting them over the summer. There was nothing like the stuff in the Wizarding World. He would have drunk himself into a hyperactive embarrassment if his friends hadn’t limited his quantity. The smell of coffee was replaced with that of his father’s apothecary lab where he’d sit for hours with him, sitting on his lap and learning basic potions techniques. Finally, the distracting scent of fruity sweetness that completely warmed his heart. He blinked, staring at his cauldron in alarm.

“What?” He heard John ask excitedly. Sherlock swallowed, gesturing at his cauldron simmering smugly, the slightly bubbling almost taunting.

“Erm,” he cleared his throat, mumbling his reply, “I-I don’t know.”

John gaped, “what do you mean you don’t know?”

“I mean, I don’t know,” Sherlock explained frantically, growing increasingly annoyed with his friend’s dimness, “it’s familiar but…I don’t know. But I…like it.”

John shook his head at the poor git as the two of them cleared away their equipment and remaining ingredients. Slughorn hastily informed them their results would be posted outside their classroom before releasing them in time for their next class. For the entire duration of their walk to Transfiguration, John rambled on about finally besting Morstan whilst Sherlock searched his mind palace for any clues on that feminine scent he couldn’t stop thinking about.

* * *

The Great Hall was probably John’s most favourite place in the entire castle after a long day of schoolwork and babysitting Sherlock. Professor McGonagall was usually tolerant of the irritating Ravenclaw but, when said irritation refused to move on from a mildly vexing Potions conundrum, her patience was all but gone. He'd sat there the whole lesson leaning over a notebook, writing down ideas only to scratch them out immediately afterwards. To make matters worse, as they trudged through the castle, Sherlock would proceed to follow random students around if he suspected they might be carrying his mysterious scent; John was convinced that, if he had been absent, Sherlock would be in the Hospital Wing recovering from a pretty nasty hex right now. It amazed John how something so simple could occupy the boy's mind. He hated not knowing, sure, but why was he so keen to find out what he was attracted to?

He had finally decided to give up and let him get on with it, getting ready to tuck into his third portion of chips when Morstan came bounding over to the Ravenclaw table, brandishing a piece of paper; he’d never noticed how her green and silver robes really made her eyes stand out. Behind Mary was the shy Hufflepuff, Molly Hooper, who was also grinning insufferably.

“Look at that, Watson,” Mary dropped the paper in front of him. He snatched it up and stared at the results of their Potions class earlier on.

“You got an O?” He blurted out in outrage, staring at his own measly little Exceeds Expectations. John shook his head, spraying chips everywhere as he poked aggressively at the paper, "how did you get an O?"

"Hard work and effort. Maybe you should try it sometime..." she smirked at his sarcastic smile in response.

“You should see what her results were,” Molly chimed in with a giggle, pushing her hair behind her ears as she sat herself beside Sherlock, which made him look up and around frantically. Molly ignored him and continued, “fresh bread, mown grass and…oh, what was that last one? Something to do with someone you’re madly in love with.”

Mary glared daggers at Molly who instantly stopped grinning but still eyed John with knowing interest. The Gryffindor in question snorted, " _you’re_ madly in love with someone, Morstan? God help him.”

Molly rolled her eyes, leaning across Sherlock to reach for a Cauldron Cake. As she returned to her seat, for the second time, Sherlock looked up urgently, peering between the three of them questioningly.

“What’s the matter with you?” Mary asked, eyeing Sherlock with growing concern. The Ravenclaw span about desperately, his eyes darting around the room until he caught sight of two passing second-years with an extravagant fruit pie. He immediately seized the dessert from their grasp and pressed it into his nose, grimacing at the far too sweet smell and sticky sweetness.

“Freak,” the two Gryffindors muttered as they passed, leaving their wrong dessert with the mad sixth-year. Sherlock pushed the pie away in distaste, dabbing at his nose with a napkin. Several minutes later, he noticed his friends staring at him with a mixture of alarm and fear.

“What?”

* * *

_Meet me in the Room of Requirement. Seventh floor. Please hurry. SH_

Molly rubbed her eyes and glanced at the clock sitting on her bedside table - 3:00am. She groaned but quickly decided she'd better get out of bed before the enchanted note began beating her up. She threw on her brightly coloured dressing gown and shimmied out of bed, manoeuvring herself into the hallway; she tiptoed past the eerily quiet kitchen. She crept through the school, dodging prefects and ghosts along her way. Molly finally reached the seventh floor and pushed open the Room of Requirement.

"Hello?"

She stepped inside and jumped violently as the heavy door slammed shut behind her - she took the opportunity to observe her surroundings. The Room had taken the shape of a giant Potions lab, complete with a large storage cupboard, several cauldrons and one tall and devastatingly handsome Ravenclaw. He was pacing before the large fireplace in a dressing gown, his bare feet tapping along the floor. Sherlock looked around at her and smiled genuinely, gesturing her towards the cauldrons.

"Is there something wrong?"

"Yes, Molly," Sherlock replied, taking her hand and pulling her over to the cauldron he'd already prepared; he promptly squashed the butterflies in his stomach which had swarmed after her soft hand had landed in his, "I need your help."

"Anything, you know that," Molly smiled supportively, squeezing his hand. The butterflies came back without warning and Sherlock found himself staring at their entwined hands.

"I-I need to..." he cleared his throat, smiling innocently, "could you make Amortentia?"

Molly blinked, slightly confused by his request, "you want me to make...Amortentia? Why? Is it for...a girl?"

"No," he almost chuckled, still holding her hand, "I need to know if it was my error. If you made it and I still cannot detect my missing scent, I'll know it is my fault."

The Hufflepuff stifled a yawn behind her hands, ruffling her messy plait; she missed the hasty swallowing she caused in Sherlock Holmes. Finally, she nodded and moved to stand in front of the cauldron. Soon enough, thanks to stirring and the correct ingredients, the potion was beginning to gain its colour, spiralling steam rising to the tall ceiling of the Room - already, Molly could detect the scent of her childhood teddy bear, new books and Sherlock Holmes. His favourite brand of banned coffee that seemed to linger on his skin, delicate aftershave and something that was just all him. She cleared her throat, knowing she was growing red in the face.

“Um, I-I think it’s ready.”

Sherlock hurried over excitedly, standing directly behind Molly - her heart almost stopped completely as he leaned over her and breathed in her potion, his eyes closing at the aroma engulfed his senses. All the same distracting scents of his own concoction filled his mind, the memories came rushing back - the childhood, the friendship, the warmth. He stepped closer until he was pressing into Molly's back, one of his hands involuntarily caressing her arm. Before he could stop himself, Sherlock glanced down at Molly's exposed neck and lowered his face to her skin, breathing her in slowly and deeply. He relished in her squeak and he smirked.

"OH!"

“Oh...w-what?” Molly could only gasp as Sherlock pressed tender kisses to her flesh, his nose travelling up her neck into her soft hair. Her knees weakened as he breathed her name.

“ _Molly_ …”

The Hufflepuff bit her lip hard, trying her hardest to remain calm even though _the love of her life was kissing her shoulders and fondling her waist for God's sake_! She could tell he was smirking; the git was making her flushed in a magic room at school at three in the morning. It was downright indecent and she loved it. Molly turned in his grasp and cupped his face, pressing the lips he'd once cruelly called too small to his perfect Cupid's bows. He groaned and responded passionately, sweeping her into his arms which nearly sent them both sprawling on the floor. They separated only to exchange fond grins before their lips found each other again.

* * *

 

When at last they left the Room of Requirement twenty minutes later, Sherlock cheekily suggested they take one of the many shortcuts in the castle in order to snog against the stone walls. For wizard science. Molly had agreed with no arguments and tugged him into one of the passageways, pulling back the tapestry to reveal John and Mary in an embrace that looked as though they were attempting to devour each other's faces. The two quickly broke apart, flushed and rather guilty looking. Sherlock raised a judging eyebrow at his friend whilst Molly folded her arms, smirking at Mary. John and Mary frowned, gesturing between their friends.

"Well, you two can talk!"

Sherlock and Molly exchanged a shy glance before bidding their friends goodnight and leaving for their respective dormitories...after their own quality tapestry time, of course.


End file.
